“A report came into our department from a mandated reporter that they noticed suspicious bruising on your son Mason’s arms.” Her words bounce like rubber on my porch. My arms loosen and slide from their position on the doorframe as my brain tries to make sense of what she’s telling me. I shift my gaze to Detective Layne.
“But I . . . but she . . . I just . . .” Everything is scrambled.
Detective Layne gives me a reassuring nod. “Genevieve, I know this is uncomfortable, but it’s standard protocol whenever a report gets made to family services. I hate doing this to you. I really do, but my hands are tied.” He holds them out in front of himself like there’s actual rope binding them, but I’m not fooled. He has total control. He’s the one calling the shots.
I shake my head. “You can’t take him. Not without me.” I shake my head harder, refusing to even consider this nonsense. “He’s going to freak. He’ll lose it. You have no idea what this will do to him. No.”
“He’ll have someone with him at all times. Why don’t you call your mom, dear?” Detective Layne reaches for me, and I jerk my arm away.
“No!” I shriek. “I said no!”
“I’m sorry, Genevieve,” Trish says with a smug look on her face like she’s enjoying this way too much. “You don’t have a choice. You can either call one of your relatives to come down here and help us escort him to the hospital so that he feels safe, or”—she draws out the word for effect—“we can just take him by ourselves, and he has no one. Which one do you prefer?”
“How dare you?” My fists clench at my sides.
Her eyes meet mine with a challenge, and I want to claw them out. My insides tremble with rage like they do every time someone triggers my mama-bear instinct. I can’t help it—it’s primal. I don’t take my eyes off her as I pull my phone out of my back pocket and bring up my mama’s number. I haven’t seen her in months. She spends all her time taking care of my daddy since he got dementia. I shoot Trish poisonous stares for making me do this to her.
“Mama, you’ve got to get over here now. It’s an emergency,” I say as soon as she answers.
“My goodness, Genevieve! What’s going on?” Her voice quivers with fear.
“Just come. Now. I don’t have time to explain.” I end the call. Still haven’t taken my eyes off Trish, but she’s not the one who started this mess.
Mason hasn’t left my side in ten days. Not once except for his testing with Ms. Walker yesterday. This was all her.
How dare she? All that crap about the police not doing their job and helping me bring the story to the media. She set me up. She set all this up. Fury surges through my veins. She has no idea who she’s messing with. I won’t let her get away with this.
NINETEEN
CASEY WALKER
Harper sees Genevieve storming across the Walmart parking lot before I do and starts whimpering next to the cart. Genevieve grabs my shoulder from behind and whips me around before I have a chance to react.
“How could you do something like that? How could you?” She practically spits the words at me. “You are a terrible person, you know that? An absolutely terrible person!”
Harper bursts into tears and grabs my leg, trying to hide behind me. I grip her next to me as I try to back away from Genevieve. “What’s going on? What happened?”
“I let you into my house. I trusted you with my kid. You said you were going to help us.” Her voice is lined with venomous hate. She steps into the space with us, wedging the three of us between two cars.
“Genevieve, I know you’re upset. I see that. I understand that, but I’m here with my daughter right now, and I really don’t think we should do this to her.” I do my best to keep my tone calm and even so I don’t upset her more than what she already is.
“Oh, do this to her?” She takes another step closer to me. The air between us is thick. “You don’t think I should do this to her?” She kneels down in front of me so she’s nearly eye level with Harper.
“Genevieve, don’t. Stop.” But she pays me no attention and starts talking to Harper, keeping her eyes on her.
“Do you want to know what your mama did to me, baby girl? Do you?” Harper lets out a series of high-pitched squeals, but Genevieve ignores her. “I have a little boy just like you, sweetie. Did you know that? He’s just like you. His name is Mason. Your mama said she was going to help Mason, but she didn’t. What kind of an awful person does that?” Harper reaches out and pinches Genevieve’s cheek, twisting and pulling the skin hard. Genevieve grins like she enjoys the pain. I grab Harper and pull her against my chest.
“Get away from us,” I hiss through gritted teeth.
She acts like she doesn’t hear me. Her gaze never leaves Harper’s. “Guess what your mama decided to do to me and my boy? She decided to play a real mean trick on us. Do you know what a trick is?”
I shove her out of the way, and she falls against the car behind her. Harper clutches my arm. Her body rigid with fear. I quickly step around Genevieve and whip open the back door, frantically trying to stuff Harper in the back seat.
“Oh no, where do you think you’re going? We’re not through talking.” She pushes her way between Harper and me, blocking the opening to the back seat with her body.
“Mommy!” Harper screams. Her tiny body trembles.
“Genevieve, stop, please. Stop. You’re scaring my daughter,” I plead, but none of my cries register in her eyes.
“How do you think Mason felt when strangers ripped him out of my house and took him to a hospital without his mama? He was pretty terrified. Isn’t that scary, honey?” She reaches out like she’s going to touch Harper’s cheek, and I smash Harper against myself, twisting us around. I leave the car door wide open with Genevieve standing in front of it and take off walking as fast as I can across the parking lot. Harper’s crying works its way into full meltdown mode.
“The car. My car,” she wails in between her heaving sobs.
“It’s okay. It’s okay, honey. I know this is scary, but we’re okay. We’re just going to go back inside the store. Don’t worry.” She’s too upset to walk and keeps crumpling onto the asphalt. I grab her and yank her back up over and over again, trying to get her to move. Genevieve abandons the car and catches us quickly, keeping stride.
“Now where do you think you’re going, Casey? Your car’s back there.” She points behind us like I don’t know where I am or what I’m doing.
“Leave us alone!” I scream in her face in a way I’ve only yelled at my brother.
It sends Harper over the edge. She kicks my left shin as hard as she can, and I almost let her go but manage to hold on to her as she struggles against me. “Harper, honey, it’s okay, stop,” I plead, but it’s no use.
“OW! OW! OW! OW!” She tries to break free and run, but I grip her tightly. She writhes against me, kicking and screaming.
“Harper, stop. Just stop. It’s okay.” My words don’t matter. Once she’s crossed over into this place, it’s impossible to bring her back until after she’s spiraled through her reaction. She kicks at my shins and lands one so hard that I let out a yelp and instinctively release one of her arms. She whips around and bites my other arm.